


To Sparkle or Not to Sparkle

by jusrecht



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-05-28
Updated: 2009-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2073051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When KHR meets Twilight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

_“About three things I was absolutely positive._

_First, Cavallone was a vampire._

_Second, there was part of him — and I didn't know how potent that part might be — that hungered for my ~~ass~~ okay, blood._

_And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably bearing his child._

 

\---

 

Hibari hates his life.

No, seriously. He hates this tame little town – nothing like his beloved Namimori, her streets crawling with danger and stimulating challenges. He hates the weather – rain, _rain, **rain,**_ even Hibird’s shiny feathers are losing their lustre under this unmitigated lack of sunshine. He hates his new school – oh his old, dear Nami High and the school roof bathed in sweet warmth of the sun. He hates his new uniform – _black_ , is the only sensible colour, everything else can just grovel and die.

At least they let him wear whatever he wants now, but he still hates his new life.

“Kyouya~~”

But most of all, he hates that herbivorous vampire.

 

 

\---

 

Dino thinks he’s starting to fall in love with life again, after merely existing for so long in bleak desolation and tedious monochrome.

Not as in love as he is with Kyouya, for sure, but still. He’s past ninety, and Reborn has been nagging him about finding a mate for so long and lately his smile has gained a morbid touch in it, which is creepy as fuck – but you can’t very well say that to the man, _baby_ who turned and trained you into a worthy vampire and still brings you with him in fishing, uh, hunting trips because you can’t stalk your devious preys without tripping over bushes or slipping on a patch of grass or something.

The day Kyouya arrived in Morinami, Dino spent the better part of his day spying from a tree which limbs and branches were stretched so lovingly and supportively toward Kyouya’s window. Too bad the impartial wind never fluttered those thick curtains even once. His sole consolation was in the knowledge that he would meet his destined one tomorrow at school and Dino willed the night away dreamily counting twinkle, twinkle little stars – _he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me..._

Heavens scripted their first meeting in Biology class. Dino remembers Kyouya’s overwhelming scent that made his mouth water and his heart beat furiously as if he were still alive. He couldn’t look at Kyouya for fear that he would do anything untoward and it would not do at all, no. He is a perfectly old-fashioned gentleman and there are perfectly proper steps of courtship that he will _perfectly_ follow. Kyouya blissfully ignored him throughout the excruciating period and Dino was quite proud that he had successfully fended off every blush attack on his cheeks every time Kyouya as much as shifted in his seat – oh woe is his pale, vampiric skin!

Except he can’t blush, but of course he only remembered _that_ when the class ended. He was so wrought-up when he was finally able to excommunicate himself from Kyouya’s illustrious vicinity and returned home.

Reborn only needed to take one look at his face to announce that they were going on a fishing trip tomorrow. Dino, naturally, was devastated. To know that his intended was so close! And yet he must cater to his corporeal needs first – oh woe is his vampirism!

He caught two trouts and one sturgeon during the trip – never mind that one belongs to freshwater and the other the glittering, tropical ocean. He thought he saw pity in Reborn’s eyes when they were sucking on the fishes, but he could be imagining things. His brain hasn’t been in its best working order since lovely Kyouya invaded his life.

Again, Biology Class, according to Heavens’ Almighty Script, is to be the fortunate witness of their second meeting. If it is at all possible – and it _is_ – Kyouya looks even more beautiful, more radiant in all his black blazing glory. They dissect onions and peer into microscopes and it is all very romantic while Dino makes sure that his brilliant smile is always ready to welcome every glance and glare Kyouya sees fit to throw his way. (His scent, oh his alluring scent!) And if he is scooting his chair closer and closer, well, Dino doesn’t think that the fault lies solely on his side.

“If you don’t stop smelling my neck–”

Kyouya is giving him his lovely Glare of Doom. “But, Kyouya,” Dino is already prepared with an army of subterfuges and remonstrances, only he cannot exactly restrain his vampiric urges any longer and thus latches his lips on that deliciously pale and enticing neck, and perhaps Kyouya freezes a little at this preposterous advance but surely that is just his shyness, for they are destined to be together till eternity and beyond, aren’t they? “Your scent is sweeter than–”

Dino sees stars, and then feels pain, but he is also ridiculously, infinitely happy because surely only love can be this intense and painful?

 

 

\---

 

“So how’s school today?”

The other thing that Hibari hates about his new life is his uncle. No, not uncle. That creepy, lecherous, pathetic excuse of a doctor cannot possibly be related to him in any way despite his claim of the contrary – _the cousin of the second cousin of your mother’s aunt twice removed married an Italian gentleman and long story short I’m the godfather of his third cousin_ –

The point is Hibari hates his life because he’s here, living with Shamal instead of ruling and terrorising the streets of Namimori. And he would have, if not for The Disease.

“You promise to be a good boy,” Shamal sighs, and his lazy smirk is the sort that promptly urges mothers to hide their children. Hibari hates that man like... he just hates that man. Utterly.

“Why do you even _care._ ”

“I don’t,” Shamal answers solemnly, although the way he twirls that syringe between his long, nasty finger is alarming. “But I promised your mother to take care of you.”

“You never met my mother,” Hibari points out with a snarl. Hibird, perched on the top of his head, twitters in righteous agreement.

“Details. It’s the thought that counts. Take off your pants.”

Hibari glares. His hatred is bursting on the seams, but dizziness starts to set in and he still remembers the last time The Disease acted up on him. As to why the injection cannot be given via normal places but has to be on his left thigh, certain millimetres from the juncture of his crotch and the needle angled at seventeen degree, only God knows the answer – and Shamal, but hell will freeze over first before he lets the man repeat that long, arcane explanation involving neurons and fat tissues and possibly, once or twice, the mentioning of lymph glands. Coupled with the fact that no other doctor seems to know the cure of his ailment – _why, of course, it’s a family recipe_ , complete with a lecherous grin and knowing looks – The Disease is officially Hibari’s bane of existence.

“There, it’s done.” Shamal brushes a thumb over the reddening mark. Once, during his third or fourth treatment, he tried to kiss the spot and Hibari kneed him in the jaw – and has been trying to forget it ever since. Sadly, the memory is a fickle thing with its own whims and evil cackles.

He hates his life.

“Kyouya~~”

But he still hates that voice calling him from outside the window the most. Which is why, blinded by a cloud of hate, he doesn’t notice the frown on Shamal’s face.

“You’re friends with Reborn’s boy?”

“No.” Not only that hell will freeze over first, for such absurdity to occur requires him abandoning Hibird in a no man’s land, which is _not_ going to happen in trillions of lifetimes.

A gasp. “Don’t tell me you’re already lovers.”

“Go to hell and die.” Hibari slams the door on his face.

 

 

\---

 

Dino thinks he needs help.

Keeping a wonderful secret to oneself is all and lovely and he thoroughly relishes spending night after night in Kyouya’s room, watching his beloved sleeping and silently wishing that he doesn’t have such an upright moral code. Those lips, _dio mio_ – curse Reborn and his strict upbringing!

Therefore, after re-evaluating his situation and/or predicament and/or love troubles, Dino decides to take someone into his confidence. He’s fairly new in this love thing, being prudently abstinent for the last seventy years or so, and Kyouya is _human_ , a fact which may or may not bear some unpleasant repercussions when paired with his vampirism. He seems to remember reading that such lapse of judgment is unadvisable and good vampire boys should chase good vampire girls, not bloodthirsty albeit pretty human boys. So he needs advice. Fast.

Reborn is out of the question. He’ll probably just stare at him long and hard and then starts shooting bullets at him – just for fun because well, they _can’t die_ , can they? Not that it doesn’t bloody hurt, but Reborn cares little for trifles. And his ‘siblings’, oh woe his siblings are either a lunatic or an idiot and both breeds are permanently hopeless when it comes to common sense.

That leaves the mother figure of the family.

With a lighter heart, visibly brightened by sparkles of hope, Dino sets out to find said mother figure, eager to hear any word of wisdom (s)he may care to impart. Three stories and countless tumbles later, he arrives at the kitchen and there (s)he is, sitting on the pantry and cleaning a ginormous rifle.

“Hey son,” he says when Dino trips over the doormat, into their dingy little kitchen. “Sit down hey.”

Dino rubs his sore chin and obeys, pulling a chair to accommodate his clumsy frame. “I don’t know what to do,” he sniffs.

“Calm down hey,” Colonello pokes his cheek with a greasy barrel. “Tell Mama your woe.”

Dino feels like bursting into tears but keeps a firm grip on his manliness and begins his tale of woe. Surely, _surely_ a mother figure can understand this agony, with such gentleness that is required for one in his station. Sweet voice of reason, every mother must have it. And if he pretends fervently enough, even the noisy flapping sound made by Colonello’s eagle can pass as the wings of angels. Yes, ‘tis all good omen.

But instead of giving him a word of wisdom and/or his utmost blessing, Colonello says, “You must not see him again.”

“What? B-but–”

“No but, stupid son. For your own good hey.”

Dino’s heart is crushed beyond reason. This, coming from the only person whose support he was counting on. Unthinkable that this love, so strong and true it is, can be wrong or objectionable in any sense. But he keeps this newest addition to his List of Woe to himself, out of prudence – and mostly because it is no trifle, that weapon which muzzle is aimed at his head, no sir.

With head bowed and heart barely clinging to hope, Dino leaves the kitchen. Maybe he should have talked with Gokudera instead. At least _he_ can see the future.

Hey, maybe he can see _their_ future.

 

 

\---

 

Hibari is in distress.

Not in the manner most damsels and Mary Sues seem to enjoy finding themselves in, mind you. Hibari can’t be one of them even if he _tries_ , but he’s in distress nevertheless and that is the most important thing the rest of the world needs to know, discounting the nature of his distress.

The cause, as it becomes progressively more and more predictable, is that-person-who-herein-will-only-be-known-as-Shall-Not-Be-Named. In that tragic, cataclysmic afternoon, Hibari was crossing the parking lot, which is perfectly normal and inoffensive as far as afterschool activities are concerned. But then something happened, precisely in this order (as recorded alternately by their respective thoughts in the crime scene, time as detailed):

 

**{Time: Wednesday, 15:13 P.M.}  
{Location: Parking lot, Morinami High School}**   
_  
Disturber of peace is nearby, I can feel it in the air._

_There’s Kyouya!_

_Shall-not-be-named approaches._

_Haven’t talked to him today. Most distressing–_

_Shall-not-be-named slips. Fuck._

_–ouch. Nasty fall, as usual. Where’s Kyou– ah._

_Heavy. What–_

_There he is. Terribly pretty, from this up close, if a little terrifying, but of course–_

_–is that a van?_

_The van will crush Kyouya! (And me but that’s not important because woe is immortality!)_

_If we die, I’m going to bite him to death **in hell.**_

_YOU SHALL NOT PAAAAAAASS!!_

_..._  
He crushed the van.  
With his bare hand.  
The van. Crushed.

_Kyouya is saved! (And for that matter, so am I, but it’s of _significantly_ lesser importance!)_

_He **really** crushed the van._

_Wait, that means I SAVED HIM! (cue glitters and red, shapely hearts)_

_And now he’s back to grinning like an idiot._

_Kyouya is looking at me and his eyes are shining with love. He’s going to kiss me anytime soon ohwhatshouldIdo–_

  
**{END}**

 

“What did you do.”

“Waiting to be ki– I mean, _saving you._ Definitely saving you.”

A twitch. “You crushed the van.”

“Um.” A blush. A nod. Then a grin. “I guess it must be the power of love.”

 

 

\---

 

When he returns home with a large concussion, no one even blinks. Reborn looks up from his espresso, sighs, but offers no ‘what did you do _this time_ ’, mostly because he doesn’t care that much anymore. Hopeless, that lad.

Until Squalo bursts in, sending doors flying and narrowly missing Dino’s concussed head. “You’re fucking stupid, aren’t you!?”

Dino cringes, as well as everyone in the room – which is every member of the happy Vongola family. Xanxus looks like he’s close to throwing a tantrum roughly equivalent to that of his destined, but a frosty look from Reborn holds the cap in place.

“Slowly, Squalo,” Reborn commands in his most commanding voice. Everyone visibly wilts. Dino furtively looks around for a hiding place and finds none, to his woe.

“HE. SAVED. THAT. FREAKY. BOY.”

“Not that slow, but then again you're as hopeless as he is. What boy and why does it matter?”

“USING HIS FUCKING POWER!”

This merits a longer, louder silence. Dino fortifies himself with his most innocuous, unworldly, what-me-surely-you-jest look and bravely meets the eyes of five angry vampires – not six because Yamamoto is gazing at him fondly, the kind of which you can practically _hear_ his smile going ‘oh, big brother has finally grown up and found his true love, welcome to the cult!’ Which is perfectly true. He really _did_ find his true love and Dino wants to go over there and have a heart-to-heart talk with his one benign little brother, but unfortunately there is a more pressing matter at hand.

“This is a great offence indeed,” Reborn suddenly speaks, in his slow, creepy way that cracks Dino’s mask a little. “Don’t you remember Code 111 Article 1 in _Vampiric Rules for Vampires_ by Isobel Swoon, stupid son?”

“...no.” Dino looks down to hide a grimace. He has never admitted to Reborn that the book disgusted him so much that he burned every copy he could lay his hands on. Which were quite many, considering his foster father’s obsession with proper education and etiquette etc.

“’No fraternising with the weaker race’ rings a bell?” Gokudera snarls, although judging from the unholy amount of his anger, Dino can safely assume that he still sees _him_ in the future. Which means that he’s going to survive this, hooray.

“But it’s unfair,” he protests. “If you’re afraid that Kyouya will find out and tell everyone, well, he doesn’t care about such things–”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Gokudera cuts in snidely. “Guy never cares about anything. Why would _you_ be any different?”

“THAT ISN’T THE POINT.”

“Silence, Squalo.” Reborn shoots a warning shot from his pistol loudly and Colonello sighs at the sight of a hole in the roof – there goes another night to fix things, Reborn is such a troublesome husband. Everybody else is frozen in their place and Dino shrinks a little when Reborn’s beady eyes refocus their attention to him. “Since you didn’t read the book, I suppose you don’t know what section two of the article says about such conduct.”

“It’s unadvisable,” he answers grudgingly. A decent vampire doesn’t need to read _the book_ to know that.

“And do you know _why_?”

“That's the thing! An acceptable reason is never mentioned, which is why it’s absurd–”

Unsurprisingly, it is Squalo who volunteers to enlighten him. “Because the human will DIE, MORON.”

 

**_End Part 1_ **

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

This mystery, by all laws of nature and mathematical formula, shouldn’t be too difficult to unravel. He has the problem, he has the fact, and with the application of proper mental acumen, the answer should follow momentarily.

Hibari sits down and sorts his thoughts, maintaining just enough carnivorous aura to keep one whole corner of the cafeteria entirely to himself. At the other end of the room, sits a particular group which is just as discouraging at a stranger’s approach as he is. This is the first time he really looks at them, instead of his usual you’re-all-just-gravels-crowding-the-road view of the world.

Shall-not-be-named is among them, sulkily poking at his food and avoiding the eyes and accusing gazes of his – what are they, _siblings_? – cohorts, for whatever reason crawling in his blond, retarded head. They are quite a mottled bunch – two with grey hair, the other two black, and retarded blond is, well, _blond._

Meanwhile, standing on a table in the middle of the cafeteria, a boy with short-cropped grey hair is reciting poetry for the benefit of mankind in general and the readers in particular.

TO THE EXTREME LEFT BLACK HAIR SHALL RISE,  
YAMAMOTO TAKESHI WITH A BASEBALL BAT HO!  
AND ONE GOKUDERA HAYATO WITH STORMY EYES  
IS SCOWLING BUT SITTING ON HIS LAP LO!

A few other students start throwing fries and apples at him, but he persists in the spirit of sharing this vital information.

BUT SUPERBI IS THE OTHER NAME FOR SHARK I HEAR,  
FROM HIS LOFTY CROWN A LENGTH OF SILVER HAIR FLOW  
TRICKLE TRICKLE TO XANXUS’S LAP KNOWING NO FEAR  
NAUGHTY HAIR THEY MAKE THEIR DESCEND NICE AND SLOW

BUT WOE! ALONE AND CAST ASIDE LIKE A LEPER,  
IS THEIR POOR, BESOTTED GOLDEN-HAIRED BROTHER HA HA!  
STRANGE TODAY WE’VE HEARD NOTHING OF HIS CAPER  
OR ECHOES OF THE WALLS, A CALL FOR BELOVED KYOU–

A fork finds its mark between his eyes and Sasagawa Ryouhei topples to the floor, unconscious and bleeding profusely.

Hibari is not amused.

 

 

\---

 

Dino thinks he hates life a little now.

Reborn has put him under probation, during which neither any form of speech nor any hint of affection will be traded between him and ‘that human boy’, as his family has cold-heartedly decided to address his destined. Dino fears them not – okay, that’s a lie, maybe he does, a little, very little, minuscule, nigh on _inexistent_ – but the point is, his paramount concern lies in Kyouya’s well-being. What they are capable of doing, he shudders to think about it.

So here he is, pretending to have a nice family lunch and cute, little vampiric gathering while in fact his siblings are keeping eyes on him like a pack of hawks – evil, mean, _nasty_ hawks. And to think that from here he can see Kyouya, in his own little corner, looking as if the world hates him as much as it currently does Dino... oh, his heart clenches painfully at this suffering he has no choice but to bring upon his beloved. If only he has a chance to give them a slip–

–no, he will have to proceed carefully. With a plan. One of these days, he _will_ come up with something because he is not returning to the land of doldrums where no love exists. No, thank you.

Kyouya is still glowering at them. In fact, he looks ready to kill now and Dino feels his heart suddenly being flooded with warmth. Here be the proof, that one unassailable factor which can withstand any calumny, even the might of time. Clear to his eyes it is, as clear as the summer sky on a fine day, that Kyouya finds his lack of attentiveness today peculiar and particularly objectionable. He even vents his frustration on that guy who has been shouting something on the top of his lungs. Unmistakable indeed.

 _Patience, my love,_ he whispers his thoughts, secretly hoping that sheer strength of will can carry the words to Kyouya’s ears. Small words though they may be, the love and spirit behind them are certainly not.

And perhaps it can. Who has the power to foretell these things? After all, Dino is a man – well, _vampire_ – to whom miracles are no stranger.

 

 

\---

 

“He’s a vampire.”

If there is something which can sour his mood even further on this crappy day, then it is to find someone sitting on _his_ bed, in _his_ bedroom, when he returns to _his_ house.

Hibari wastes no time with curiosity and shoves his tonfa to the intruder’s neck. Despite this hostile manner of welcome, said intruder managed a smirk that would have looked less ridiculous on someone with _less ridiculous_ hair.

“Don’t you remember me?” Pineapple asks, infernal smirk unchanging. “We used to make mud pies together – oh, and garlands of sakura that always left you in a fainting fit.”

Hibari has never seen any mud pie in his life, let alone interacted in any way with flowers that can make him _faint_ , and declares that much icily, followed by a more physical, violent declaration by his remorseless pair of steel.

“Curious, very curious,” Pineapple manages a breathy reply despite his windpipe being slowly and meticulously crushed. “You look just like the girl I used to play with long, long time–”

Hibari comes to the decision that he will be doing humankind an enormous service by wiping this particular vermin off the face of the earth. As if somehow aware of his less-than-friendly intention, Pineapple quickly adds, “He’s a vampire.”

Hibari blinks, once, at this non-sequitur, and then glares. “And I’m a fish. _Die_.”

“You may be,” Pineapple says thoughtfully, even as his throat starts to make little choking sounds. “He... sucks on fishes... you know...”

Hibari can feel his face changing colour to some shade of disgusted green and decides that even though this _fruit_ deserves a slow, painful death, he will quicken the process. Just because.

“Go die now. Say hi to hell from me.”

Pineapple smiles – smirks, goddamnit, no one can call _that thing_ a smile. “He sucks...on fishes,” he repeats, making sure that Hibari doesn’t miss the most important part of this revelation. In fact, he doesn’t look at all disconcerted by his approaching demise. “...disrupts... nature balance...”

It will have ended in another two seconds and the world will have become once more a clean and peaceful place, if not for Shamal’s voice wafting in from the other side of the door. “Not until you’re of age, kids.”

It’s the thought that anything short of a bloodbath can possibly occur between him and this, this _devil_ incarnate that slackens his grip on his tonfa. A split of a second and Pineapple disappears in a puff of pink smoke and sakura petals. Only his voice lingers, an eerie, disturbing, exceedingly offensive echo in Hibari’s domain, “I’ll be in the forest near your school, dear poppet, should for whatever reason you wish to see me again, be it homicidal, sexual, or sepulchral, _pulchral, chral, aaaaal..._ ”

For a long time, he still hears the titter of diabolical laughter in his room, being played over and over again like a broken radio and Hibari adds another name into his _List of Hate_.

 

 

\---

 

The fourth day.

Still being watched.

Steadily getting desperate.

Thinking about locking them up in a broom closet, and with the foursome which may ensue–

 

 

\---

 

No one calls Hibari Kyouya ‘poppet’ and lives to repeat his evil cackles in _his_ head.

It is – _was_ – his main reason of giving this place a cursory glance, followed by what he hoped to be an even more cursory visit. Bite the fruit dead and leave the corpse behind to rot, as quick and simple as that.

At least it seemed that quick and simple about two minutes ago.

Hibari shakes his head, but the voice won’t disappear. The entire forest is humming with the same sweet sound, distinctly female but with a haunting quality that keeps him on edge. It grows in his mind like a vine, slithering along narrow passages into every nook and crevice, and the mist definitely isn’t helping – no, he isn’t talking about how stupidly _pink_ it is. He can feel his concentration drifting, his legs slowly losing their strength, and...

That is when he remembers that Shamal hasn’t given him the injection today.

_Fuck._

Hibari crumbles to his knees with a furious hiss. His body is heating up, and to promote worse to worst, _someone_ is approaching. A girl, he surmises from what hazy silhouette provided by his failing sight, with hairstyle eerily similar to something he doesn’t particularly want to remember. She is smiling, looking down at him, and then his face blurs and it is suddenly _evil_ that stares back at him, with that evil smirk and evil hairdo.

“Hello, poppet.”

A finger trails down his cheek and Hibari lets out a throaty moan.

 

 

\---

 

Closet is not such a good idea but the aphrodisiac definitely works. For once, Dino is grateful that he has always aced Chemistry – not that it’s any surprise, after re-graduating high schools for at least twenty times in a row.

The point is, he is eternally grateful to have escaped from his gaolers just in time to meander into the forest looking for his beloved and catch sight of a man with hair that probably won’t look out of place on the very top of a Christmas tree, doing obscene things to said beloved. Dino sees green – not the trees, no, this is some sort of obnoxious green, the kind he associates with Shakespeare and Othello – and with this venomous fervour doth he set forth to save his maiden’s virtue.

An epic battle ensues. At least, he _thinks_ an epic battle ensued because he couldn’t remember much in that state of infinite, blinding, vampiric rage, and when he finally comes to, he tastes something like blood in his mouth. Never had anything so foul in his life before, and it’s green too, what the hell?

Dino would have pondered on further implications of green blood if certain very alluring scent hadn’t dominated most part of his senses. He stares, open-mouthed and possibly drooling a little, at the sight of his beloved, breathing heavily with both cheeks flushed to a very lovely rosy colour.

“K-Kyouya?”

“Get down here, vampire.”

There is a moment of stupefied inaction as Dino marvels at the fact that his secret is no longer just that, _a secret_. But of course. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from Kyouya, such acumen, such quickness of mind. Can’t help it if he feels ridiculously proud – and maybe a little relieved too, because he doesn’t need to go against his filial duties and promises, asinine though they may be, to Reborn.

“I said, _get down_.”

The world suddenly makes a little less sense when he finds himself on his back, with Kyouya looking down predatorily at him. There’s a little revelation, sort of like a mini big bang in some corner of his brain, that the alluring scent? Well, it’s because his beloved is apparently in a libidinous stage and now he’s kissing him and grinding down his hips and _go away, brain, don’t need you at the moment._

It’s the image of Reborn with his green pistol and creepy smile that sends the perfect if completely bizarre situation into an abrupt, violent halt.

“No, Kyouya, we can’t,” Dino, in an impossible display of tremendous willpower, pushes his randy destined away. “Not until we’re properly married and–”

“Shut up, Cavallone,” Kyouya growls, sinking his teeth into Dino’s neck, which he really shouldn’t have done because Dino can feel his instinct rebelling at once. When he is finally able to blink the mist of bloodlust out of his eyes, he already has his beloved sprawled under him, shirt torn, pants nowhere in sight, and _god forbid_ he is smirking.

"So there's a lion side of you after all," Kyouya purrs, eyes dark, a swipe of his tongue on his upper lip.

Even Dino Cavallone, with all his perfections and moral uprightness and whatnots, has his limits.

 

 

\---

 

  
**(Hibird’s Litany of Angst)**  
  
See, most people think that I don’t have a brain. That I’m just a cute little fluff-ball who sings, raps, and recites poetries. (That alone should make them _realise_ that I _do_ have a brain, but humans have always been painfully inadequate in term of mental acumen).  
  
Except my Hibachii of course, but my Hibachii has always been smarter than most of his disgracefully inept tribe.  
  
Most of the times anyway.  
  
This isn’t one of those times, sadly. He’s a victim of some... disease, you know, and this ailment, embarrassment, infamy, catastrophe, _whatever_ , it tampers with some gears and screws of his brain. On second thought, it tampers with _all_ of the gears and screws and other manner of gizmos in his head. They usually orbit around this lovely albeit monotonous chant of ‘blood, blood, blood’ and the effect is often very pretty – red splattered everywhere, skull breaking, flesh crumbling, eyes rolling. A stupendous piece of oeuvre, if I do say so myself.  
  
And then came along The Disease, about three months ago. Its mechanism is pretty simple, actually, in a mind-bending kind of way. Replace ‘blood’ with a three-letter word that begins with an S and ends with an X, and plays a significant role in the procedure of procreation.  
  
You can see how disturbing this is. My fearsome Hibachii, becoming a little bundle of _fuck me please_ and _mmh oohh aaahh yesss._  
  
Like I said, _disturbing._  
  
I know it has something to do with Shamal. _Everything_ has something to do with Shamal. My prevailing theory is that he, for some unearthly reason, added something to my Hibachii’s food or drink. Some untested virus or bacteria perhaps, just to see what would happen and maybe get a little laugh out of it, the sick, demented man. His saving grace is the fact that he _does_ have the medicine to keep The Disease tame and harmless. Sadly, it isn’t a cure as much as a delay, like adding a few minutes into a time bomb, and then adding a few more just before it goes _kaboom_. Endless cycle, really.  
  
And then there’s also that... that _vampire_. See, I’ve made enough acquaintances with bats in the course of my fluctuating life to recognise their kin on sight. The thing is, I can’t actually _tell_ my Hibachii and warn him that some blood-sucking, humanoid form of life is after his blood and possibly virginity too – although that one has pretty much gone down the drain. But peacock knows I’ve been trying to drop many hints ever since they met. I’ve sung _The Animal Song, The Great Pretender, The Phantom of the Opera,_ even every song in _Twilight_ OST – but my Hibachii doesn’t like those songs and he always tells me to shut up SOBS.  
  
Not to mention, this vampire is **RELENTLESS** , bolded and capslocked and all. You’d think anyone with any sense of self-preservation would steer clear off my Hibachii’s way, but he... I don’t know, a masochist or something, but maybe it’s just the fact that he is a vampire and thus immortal and stuff. Right now he’s probably thinking ‘oh it’s just a bird watching, who cares, besides I have a Kyouya to molest.’  
  
Ha ha ha. And I weep, I tell ye. I _weep_. My Hibachii is made of tough, robust, unbreakable stuffs. Steel, anger, hellfire, porcupines, turtle’s shells, what have you. So it’s nothing short of excruciating to see him like this, and not to mention brain-breaking.  
  
A song. Yes, a song to distract yours truly from any NC-17-rated movie being enacted in the vicinity. Let’s see...  
  
  


_Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kitten_  
Bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens  
Brown paper packages tied up with strings  
These are a few of my favourite things  
  
When the dog bites, when the bee stings,  
when I’m feeling saaaaaaad  
I simply remember my favourite things,  
and then I don’t feel so baaaaaaaad

  
  
  
No, that doesn’t help, not even a smidgen. Mindfucking self doesn’t work this time, _self_ , not without the truth spread – and I do mean like _spread_ , knees bent and all – before your eyes just twenty feet below.  
  
Come to think of it, he wasn’t _this_ loud with Shamal, the one time that old, debauched, morally depraved man took advantage of his condition. Thankfully a threat of a painful, un-anesthetised emasculation can keep any future endeavour at bay. And yet now...  
  
You know what’s the most distressing aspect of this stupid situation? It’s the fact that my Hibachii looks like he’s _enjoying_ it. And I sort of want to burst into tears again. Oh bird-life, how I hate thee. Let’s see – skimming HiPod’s list of requiems and laments...  
  
  


A whole new world  
A dazzling place I never knew  
But now from way up here  
It's crystal clear  
That now you're in a whole new world with him

  
  
  
...that doesn’t work either. In fact, it’s making me cry golden, feathered tears now.  
  
Hookay, time for serious firepower.  
  
  


_It was a moonlit night in Old Mexico._  
I walked alone between some old adobe haciendas.  
Suddenly, I heard the plaintive cry of a young Mexican girl:  
LA LA LAAAAAAAA  
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LAAAAAA  
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LAAA  
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

  
  
  
...WHAT THE HECK. THEY AREN’T EVEN LISTENING. And that owl is looking at me weird, but sorry buddy, not interested in avian of any race or species. You can’t even begin to compete with my Hibachii.  
  
And oh, peacock, that’s the _fourth_ round.  
---  
  
 

 

**_End Chapter 2_   
**

 


End file.
